The next afternoon he was back again, seeking amusement andprofit. This time he followed up three of a kind to his doom.There was a better hand across the table, held by a pugnaciousIrish youth, who was a political hanger-on of the Tammanydistrict in which they were located. Hurstwood was surprised atthe persistence of this individual, whose bets came with a sang-froid which, if a bluff, was excellent art. Hurstwood began todoubt, but kept, or thought to keep, at least, the cool demeanourwith which, in olden times, he deceived those psychic students ofthe gaming table, who seem to read thoughts and moods, ratherthan exterior evidences, however subtle. He could not down thecowardly thought that this man had something better and wouldstay to the end, drawing his last dollar into the pot, should hechoose to go so far. Still, he hoped to win much--his hand wasexcellent. Why not raise it five more?